Home is for the Weary
by mgowriter
Summary: After six months away, Nate comes home to find that Sully is hiding something from him and nothing is as he left it.
1. Chapter 1

**mgowriter's note** : I wrote this story at a time when I needed something that gave me comfort. I hope it does the same for someone else out there.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The heavy metal door opened to the sound of a loud buzzer. Nathan Drake and Leonard Hayes, J.D., stood from steel chairs bolted to the concrete floor. A large, uniformed guard with a less than friendly expression commanded the doorway as he entered, followed by the sound of shuffling feet behind him.

"You've got 15 minutes," said the guard, studying the pair before him. One man was dressed in a clean-pressed suit while the other looked as if he hadn't showered in days. "No physical contact allowed. I'll be watching through the window."

He stepped away to reveal the prisoner, dressed in an orange jumpsuit and confined by handcuffs.

"Sully," Nate said in shock. He blinked back his look of surprise. The man standing before him was about thirty pounds thinner compared to only a few months ago and had a crew cut that bordered military-grade.

"Nate?" Sully asked. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Morocco."

"I was. Until I got a call from Len two days ago. Sully, what the hell is going on?"

Sully turned to the lawyer. "You told him?"

"I didn't tell him anything," said Leonard with a pointed look. "You two should talk. I'm following this…gentleman outside." He looked at the guard, who ignored his comment and exited the room.

"What's he talking about?" Nate asked as he and Sully sat opposite each other across the metal table.

"Nothing," said Sully, adjusting his handcuffs. "You know how he gets. One little misunderstanding is suddenly the case of the year."

"Sully, you're charged with kidnapping a minor."

"The charges won't stick. The most they managed to do is to delay the hearing for a couple of days. Once it's over, I'll be out of here."

"But—"

"Look, this is just Leonard making a big deal out of nothing. He shouldn't have called you without asking me. It would've saved you a trip."

Nate leaned back in his chair, unconvinced.

"How are things going in Morocco?" Sully asked, filling the silence.

"Something isn't adding up here, Sully," said Nate, ignoring the question. "You've been here what, a couple of days? Why do you look like you've been starving yourself for the good part of a year? And your hair. I've never seen it so short."

Sully shrugged. "The food in here is terrible. You know that. Besides, I've been trying to lose a few inches on the waist. And if we're passing judgement on hair, what's going on with that bird's nest you're sporting on your face?"

Nate ran a hand through his overgrown beard. "It's part of the look, helps me fit in better with the locals." His deep tan and dark features had also helped him move around the country with ease.

"Look, Nate, I appreciate you dropping everything and coming here, but the charges won't stick and this whole thing will blow over in a couple of days."

Nate continued staring at the man before him. The change in Sully was so severe that he would've passed right by him walking down the street.

"Good," he said finally, "because I'm staying until it's done."

Sully opened his palms in a gesture of peace. "Drop your things off at the house and stay a couple of days. You look like you could use some down time. But do me a favor, will you?"

"What's that?" Nate asked.

"Check on the kid for me."

Nate leaned forward in the chair. "What kid? The kid that they're saying you kidnapped?"

"Nate, just do this for me, okay? His dad works until eight every night. He gets home from school at three and lives just across the street. If you leave now you'll have plenty of time."

Nate shook his head. "Len's going to have a field day with this."

"What Leonard doesn't know won't hurt him."

"What the hell happened between you and this kid? I'm gone for six months and I'm this out of the loop?"

The steel door swung open as the guard reentered with Leonard following behind.

"Time's up," said the guard. "Show me your hands, inmate."

Sully stood and waited his handcuffs to be checked. He looked back at Nate.

"Can I count on you?"

Nate frowned but nodded his agreement.

After making sure his prisoner was secure, the guard pushed Sully roughly into the hallway.

Leonard turned to Nate. "Did he tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Nate asked.

The lawyer shook his head. "Never mind. Stubborn son of a bitch." He checked his watch. "I'm missing my granddaughter's piano recital for this, by the way. I don't know why I keep defending you two. It's like some sort of sick self-torture. I should've quit after that first case about that ridiculous stolen amulet, or whatever the hell it was."

Nate placed his hand on the lawyer's shoulder. "Sully really appreciates what you're doing. And so do I."

"You see this?" said Leonard, pointing to his mostly grey hair. "This is from you and him alone."

Nate laughed at his words, breaking the tension. "Come on Len, that's not fair."

"The hearing's in two days," the lawyer continued. "They've got close to nothing, so the charges won't hold. I'll see you then." Without looking back, he hurried out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Nate brushed the dirt from his hands and stood back to survey the row of pink azalea plants in front of Sully's house. The extra key had always been buried inside a small plastic box underneath the third plant, but it was nowhere to be found.

He searched underneath the doormat and ran his fingers along the top of the doorframe, without much luck. A memory of an old hiding place made him carefully inspect the inside of the metal mailbox. He smiled as he felt a key secured to the opposite side of a trap door.

Nate set his worn duffel bag on the spotless white tile as he entered the house. His stomach growled, making the kitchen his first stop. The last thing he remembered eating was a miniature bag of pretzels on one of the multiple flights he took over the last two days. He grabbed the makings of a sandwich from the fridge, along with a bottle of beer.

The simple ham and cheese concoction tasted almost heavenly in his mouth. Chasing it with a long swig of the cold beer elicited a sigh of content.

Leaning across the kitchen sink, Nate peered through the window at the house across the street. A solitary light was on inside, but the building was void of any movement and there were no cars in the driveway. He continued eating as he studied the peach colored stucco siding. His watch read 6:45 pm.

Nate took one last drink from the beer and set it down with a thud. "Here goes nothing," he said to himself.

. . .

Up close, the exterior of the house told a story of years of neglect. The paint flaked in vertical strips off the walls and angled shutters. A large diameter of asphalt was crumbling in the driveway, and the grass in the yard competed with taller weeds for sunlight.

He stopped to compose himself. As he reached to knock, the door opened to reveal a kid with two black eyes and a bandage on his nose.

"Are you Nate?" he asked.

Nate stared down at the stranger. "How do you know my name?"

"You look like your picture, except for the beard. And Sully accidentally calls me by your name sometimes. Did he send you?"

"Yeah, he did," said Nate

"Is he okay? Is he in a lot of trouble? My dad says they're going to sentence him to ten years in prison."

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down. He's not going to prison. He'll be out soon."

The kid sighed with visible relief.

Nate studied the young boy in front of him. Blond hair, blue eyes. Skinny. The bruises around his eyes were healing, and tinged with an ugly mixture of yellow and green.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Daniel. Danny."

"How old are you?" Nate asked.

"Thirteen."

Nate raised his eyebrows.

"Eleven," Danny corrected. "But it's my birthday next week, so actually twelve."

"Okay. Danny. What happened to your face? And while you're at it, you wanna tell me what happened between you and Sully?"

"I fell when I was riding my bike," said Danny.

"Right," said Nate, "And there was a bump in the road that hit you on the nose exactly in between the eyes."

Danny looked down at the ground.

"Come on, kid, what really happened?"

"I ran away from home," Danny said quietly. "My dad was really mad and he went looking for me in his car. I didn't have anywhere to hide, so I went to Sully's house. He said I could stay until my dad sobered up, but the police came and took me home, and they took him away, too."

Nate digested the news with a frown. "Your dad did that to you?"

Danny nodded.

"Where's your mom?"

Danny looked up, forcing his features into a big smile. "Hey, I made dinner. Do you want something to eat?"

Nate stared at the kid for a couple of seconds, but let the subject drop. "You know how to cook?"

Danny nodded with pride. "Tonight's mac and cheese."

"Thanks, but I have to get back. Maybe some other time." Nate turned to leave.

"Hey Nate?"

He paused, looking back.

"Can you tell Sully I'm really sorry I got him into trouble?"

"Sure," said Nate. "Next time I see him."

Danny smiled. "Okay, see you around."

. . .

Sleep encompassed him as soon as he slumped into the soft, comfortable bed of Sully's guest room. It was the middle of the night back in Morocco and his body was adjusting to the new time zone poorly. He dreamed of orange jumpsuits and a surprise rescue from a concrete cell in the middle of the jungle. The smell of cigar smoke lingered in his senses as he woke.

Nate sat up in bed slowly as the events of yesterday permeated their way into his mind. He made his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. The man that stared back at him in the mirror felt out of place. He ran his fingers along the side of his beard, examining the different colors of hair that blended together, including a few patches of grey. It needed to go.

The cabinet behind the mirror had a spare toothbrush and some soap, but no razor. Sully's bedroom was at the top of the stairs, with an adjoining bathroom. Feeling somewhat like a trespasser, but knowing Sully wouldn't object, he opened the top cabinet drawer underneath the sink. A single-bladed straight razor, container of shaving cream, and shaving brush were aligned neatly in the space. He picked up the razor to test its edge. The sharp steel sliced into his index finger, but he pulled away quickly before it drew blood.

The sensation of the shaving cream felt good on his skin. He worked the round brush methodically through the beard as the memory of his first shaving experience resurfaced clearly in his mind.

It was in a dimly lit bathroom in front of a small, round mirror that he had to stand on tiptoes to see. He had waited for Sully to go to the morning market in Cartagena before pulling out the older man's kit. The shaving cream went on messily, somehow even ending up in his hair, but he didn't give up. He placed the blade next to his neck, and pressed down with a little too much force. Who knew Sully kept his razor as sharp as a surgical scalpel? Blood poured from the cut, enough to soak up an entire hand towel and then some. Sully came back to the scene of the crime, and it was the first of many "you're gonna give me a goddamn heart attack" moments.

Nate touched the almost invisible scar underneath his jawline. Sully had sewn the cut up himself. A couple of pinprick injections of lidocaine and three stitches in total.

Today, he was especially careful with the straight blade, taking his time around the contours of his face and finishing on the delicate curve of the chin.

He wiped off the excess shaving cream and cleaned the tools under running water. A smile formed on his lips as he examined his handiwork in the mirror. Much better.

Nate searched the drawer for the last missing ingredient. For some reason, Sully always used a lavender scented after shave. He closed the drawer and continued down the column, peeking into each one for the familiar violet-colored bottle.

The bottom row didn't bring him any more luck, but something else caught his eye. He reached his hand to the back to grab a white pill bottle.

The label read, "Prochlorperazine Maleate." It was prescribed to Victor Sullivan.

He shook the bottle. The sound of a few remaining pills rattled around inside. Nate reached into the drawer again. He pulled out five more pill bottles and stood them side by side on the counter. Dexamethasone. Zofran. Megestrol acetate. Glutamine. Vitamin B12. Most were close to empty.

He frowned at the row of plastic bottles. After a moment's indecision, they were transported into Sully's office, in front of the computer. The whirl of the laptop took an eternity as he waited for the system to boot up. He clicked the icon for the internet and typed in the words on the first bottle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Nate pulled out the plastic chair in front of the window and took a seat. He watched as Sully appeared from the other side and sat in the opposite chair. A pane of thick, bullet-proof glass separated them.

Sully smiled and pulled the wall-mounted telephone receiver to his ear. Nate mirrored his action.

"Looking good, kid. I almost didn't recognize you with the beard yesterday."

Nate gave a small nod. "I couldn't find a razor, had to use yours. Hope that's okay."

"Any bloody towels left for me to clean up?" Sully teased.

Nate remained silent.

"So did you go see Danny?"

"He says he's sorry he got you into trouble."

Sully shook his head in disgust. "It's his drunk of a father that should be sorry."

"Tell me about it," said Nate. "I heard a little bit of the story last night."

Sully leaned back in his chair. "And are you gonna tell me what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, kid, I saw you less than a day ago. You didn't come just to update me on Danny, and you forget I can read you like a book. What's wrong?"

"I was looking for the after shave," said Nate as he lifted his eyes to meet Sully's. He pulled out one of the pill bottles from his pocket. "But I found this instead."

He placed the bottle carefully on the small counter in front of him. "And there were others. Lots of bottles. I didn't know what they were, so I looked them up."

He paused. Sully was silent.

"Sully, I would love an explanation here, because the websites online say these are used to treat the side effects of chemotherapy. The only reason a person would have chemotherapy is if they had cancer, right? So what, are you smuggling these for someone that can't go see a real doctor?"

"Nate…" Sully began.

Nate's fist made a loud thud on the counter. "What the _hell_ , Sully? How long have you known?"

Sully sighed audibly into the receiver. "I was diagnosed two months after you left for Morocco."

"This is what Leonard was talking about yesterday, wasn't it?" Nate demanded as his voice rose in anger. "The thing he wanted you to tell me. This is why you look like you've been on a starvation diet and you're hair's so short. How the hell can you tell him and not tell me?"

The woman sitting to the right of Nate, separated by a thin divider, gave him a dirty look.

"Nate, keep your voice down," said Sully as he checked the location of the guard behind him.

"Keep my voice down?" said Nate, doing just the opposite. "Who else knows? Your bank teller? Mailman?"

Sully sighed again. "I had to tell Leonard because he was drawing up a will."

The anger from Nate deflated in an instant.

"You get everything, by the way. Just don't sell the boat for some hot tip on lost treasure that's likely not going to pan out, okay?"

"Sully, you're not gonna die."

"Good thing the real docs agree with you. I went in for a lingering cough from a cold, they took a routine chest x-ray, and found it at the earliest possible stage. Lung cancer. I had one round of chemo and radiation, and they're waiting to do another scan to see if it's gone."

After several seconds of silence, Nate exhaled slowly.

"When's the scan scheduled for?"

"Next week," said Sully. "And if all goes well, this'll just be a bump in the road. I didn't want to alarm you unnecessarily."

"Unnecessarily?" Nate asked.

"Okay, point taken," said Sully.

"If something like this _ever_ happens again…"

"You'll be the first to know," said Sully. "I promise."

The guard behind him announced the end of visitation. Sully stood from his chair.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Don't worry about coming to the hearing. Leonard will drive me home."

Nate hung up the receiver and watched the guard escort Sully from the room.

. . .

The rest of the day was spent in front of the computer, researching endless articles on the various forms of lung cancer and their treatments. Nate rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus on the screen. The small clock on the lower right read 8:32 pm. He leaned back in the leather chair and placed his hands behind his head to stretch his arms. His muscles protested as he stood and made his way to the kitchen. Making a mental note to stock the fridge for Sully's return, he grabbed the last of the deli meat and cheese to make another sandwich.

As he looked out from the kitchen window, he could see the shadow of a man inside the house across the street. His movements were erratic, and he appeared to be pointing or yelling at something. The muffled sound of shattered glass traveled across the street. A smaller shadow appeared in the upstairs window at the same time, before disappearing quickly.

Nate frowned at the scene. He watched a few minutes longer, chewing on his sandwich slowly, but no more noise came from across the street. Finally, he closed the blinds.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Nate exited the car with a prickling sensation of being watched. He turned, and was surprised at the proximity of the intruder.

"You're good at sneaking up on people, you know that?"

"Sorry," said Danny. He looked at the trunk. "Can I help you carry in the groceries?"

They unloaded the bags and refilled the almost bare refrigerator. Danny stared doubtfully at a package of spinach before handing it to Nate.

"Does Sully like this stuff?" he asked.

"Haven't you ever heard of Popeye?" said Nate. "It's good stuff. Makes you strong." He placed the last package in its place and eyed their handiwork before shutting the door. Danny hovered silently behind him.

"Something else on your mind?" asked Nate.

"It's Friday," Danny replied.

Nate waited, with no further explanation. "And?"

"We always clean the boat on Friday afternoons."

"You and Sully?"

Danny nodded.

Nate grinned at his answer, remembering the countless hours of his youth that were spent cleaning the same boat. "Every Friday?" he asked.

The boy nodded again.

"He's got you trained pretty well, huh?"

Danny shrugged. "I like doing it."

Nate feigned an expression of horror. "Don't ever tell him that. He'll make you polish a hole through the stainless steel."

Nate began walking to the back of the house, followed closely by the younger boy. "Okay, let's go see how the boat looks."

The wooden dock extended from the back yard into a river that fed into the Atlantic. _Sullivan's Travels_ was a sufficiently sized motorboat that could be used for ferrying a load of stolen treasure, a quick getaway, or spending a day fishing in the ocean. It stood proudly at attention, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Nate whistled as he climbed aboard. "Looks like you guys have been keeping it up pretty well."

Danny procured the cleaning supplies from below deck. Nate watched as he began to mop the deck, cleaning each section twice to make sure nothing was missed. After a couple of minutes, he grabbed a cloth and cleaning spray, and began to work on the wheelhouse windows himself.

The two worked in silence for the next hour, until the boat was reflecting off more sunlight than the water it rested on.

Nate stood to stretch when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. A minute passed, before Sully and Leonard appeared from the sliding porch door into the back yard. He smiled as the two men began walking towards them.

"Good to know the boat's being taken care of in my absence," Sully said as he neared. Leonard stood by his side.

"Hey, old man." Nate said as he stepped off the boat and grabbed Sully in a full hug. "Welcome home."

Sully returned the embrace. "Thanks, kid. I'm glad you're here."

Nate nodded as he pulled away. Sully's Havana shirt was too large on him and the skin on his cheeks sunk in as he spoke. For as long as he could remember, Sully had never really been sick. A cold would keep him down for a couple of hours, but he'd be piloting the getaway plane the same day. He had the flu once and swore by three glasses of orange juice with each meal of the day. By the next morning, all symptoms had vanished. Sully was the strongest man he knew. The thin frame of the man that stood in front of him scared him in more ways that he cared to admit.

"I gotta say I'm surprised," said Sully. "You always avoided cleaning the thing like the plague."

Nate crossed his arms. "I think old age has gotten you confused, Sully. I remember plenty of days spent wiping imaginary dust from this thing."

Danny's head popped up from below deck at the sound of the conversation.

"Ah," said Sully. "Now this makes more sense. I'm guessing this was all Danny's idea."

The younger boy beamed at his words. "Welcome back, Sully."

Leonard, who was admiring the boat, inhaled sharply at the sight of the kid.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he said as he gestured toward Danny. "This is the kid?"

"Yeah," said Sully, "that's him."

"Jesus, Sully," Leonard said as he started to back away. "I didn't see this. In fact, I'm leaving and I was never here. You wanna go back to jail?" He gestured toward the boy again. "That's how you get there. Trust me. Leave him alone. The both of you."

Danny bit his lower lip as the three of them watched Leonard's retreat.

"I should get going," he said.

"Look, Leonard's just a crazy lawyer," said Sully. "Don't listen to him. You can stay if you want."

Danny looked between both Nate and Sully. "I'm glad you're back, but I should get home." He gathered the cleaning supplies quickly to store them.

"Hey kid," said Sully, as Danny stepped off the boat.

Danny turned, looking back.

"We'll go fishing next time. Bring some bait, okay?"

Danny smiled, and nodded. "Okay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Nate and Sully stood together on the dock, watching Danny follow Leonard's footsteps to the front of the house.

"You call him 'kid'?" Nate asked.

Sully laughed. "Don't tell me you're jealous of a twelve-year-old."

"Eleven."

"What?"

"He's eleven. His birthday's next week," said Nate.

Sully stood back with a grin. "I'm glad you two have been getting to know each other. Come on," he placed his arm around Nate's shoulder. "Let's eat. You can tell me all about what you've been up to these last six months over dinner."

. . .

Nate placed a large helping of greens and pieces of grilled chicken on a plate before he slid it over to Sully's seat at the kitchen island.

Sully looked down at the food. "What's this?"

"Kale salad," Nate replied.

"Since when did you start eating kale?"

"We're both gonna start eating it," said Nate. "It's good for you. Lots of vitamins."

Sully began to protest, but changed his mind. He looked doubtfully at the mass of greens on his plate before stabbing his fork into a piece of kale and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Mmm…" he said as he chewed. "Tastes like…kale."

Nate laughed at the effort. He raised his bottle of beer in a toast. "To getting out of jail."

Sully clinked his bottle. "You'd think I'd be a pro at being locked up by now, but it's something you never get used to."

"We owe something to the Leonard Hayes magic," Nate added. "He threatened to quit, but I convinced him otherwise."

"Leonard always threatens to quit," said Sully as he cut into the chicken. "But he always comes back. He needs the excitement in his life."

"Speaking of the guy, I have to say I agree with him on this one," said Nate. "What's the deal between you and Danny?"

Sully set his fork down. "Come on, you too?"

"I get that his dad isn't winning any father of the year awards," said Nate, "but that's something for them to sort out. And if it gets out of hand, there are people that take care of that stuff. You've got other things to worry about. Your health, for one."

"I'm fine. My health is fine. One more week and the scan will prove it."

"You're not fine, Sully," said Nate. "You look like you've been living in a concentration camp."

Sully ran a hand through his short hair.

"That bad, huh?"

"That bad," Nate confirmed.

"You think it'll help if I dyed it?" Sully asked.

Nate set down his bottle. "This isn't funny."

Sully couldn't help his laugh. "I know, kid, I'm sorry. Hey, aren't we supposed to be celebrating my return? Pour some of the good stuff. Let's go sit outside."

"You barely touched your dinner," Nate observed.

"The secret to a kale-based diet," said Sully, "is to introduce it a little at a time."

Nate frowned, but didn't comment further. He grabbed two glass tumblers from the cabinet and poured a healthy serving of whiskey into each.

. . .

An almost full moon filled the night sky. The light it cast illuminated the back yard in alternating dark and silvery silhouettes.

Nate passed one of the tumblers along. The two men clinked glasses.

"It's good to have you here," said Sully as he leaned back into his chair. "I've missed this."

"Second that," said Nate.

"So what have you been up to in Morocco?"

"I'm trying to track down a sword that belonged to the explorer Martin Pinzon in the 1400's. He has some distant relation to the client. Pinzon's sword was stolen out of a museum last year and sold out of Tangier to a private collector in the city of Maracaibo. That's where this whole thing is hung up on. I'm having a hard time securing a route in and out of Venezuela."

Sully's expression darkened at the mention of the country.

"I know, I know," said Nate. "I don't consider Venezuela my favorite place either, but I'm being careful."

Sully remained silent. He took a sip of whisky.

"Besides," Nate continued, "this isn't twenty-seven years ago in Caracas. I can handle myself."

"You almost died twenty-seven years ago in Caracas," said Sully. Out of habit, he reached in his pocket for a cigar that wasn't there. Instead, he took out the lighter he still carried.

Nate noted the gesture. "It must be hard, quitting the cigars."

"Like you wouldn't believe," said Sully. "The words of a real addict, right?"

The younger man motioned for the lighter and Sully obliged. Nate flipped open the silver lid and struck the flint wheel to reveal a perfect, conical flame. The blue and orange fire flickered for a few seconds before he shut the lid.

"I can't believe this thing still works."

"Some kid risked his life to get me that lighter," said Sully as he stood from his chair. "The least I can do is keep it working, cigars or no cigars." He took both of their glasses in one hand and opened the sliding glass door with the other. "I'll be back with refills."

Nate leaned back into his chair to look up at the stars. He searched the sky until he found Polaris, the North Star. He followed the handle to the Little Dipper, across to the Big Dipper, and finally down again to the elongated diamond shape of Bootes, the kite in the sky. For some reason, it was the first constellation Sully taught him when he was younger. Nate smiled at the memory. They spent a lot of relentless, humid nights on the rooftop of "Sullivan's Antiquities" staring at the stars.

A few minutes passed. Nate checked his watch, then turned to peek inside the house. He couldn't see any movement in the kitchen. Pushing open the sliding door, he ducked inside quickly to avoid the swarm of mosquitos that hovered close to the porch light.

"Sully?" Nate asked.

There was no answer, but the sound of running water percolated down the hallway.

"Hey Sully, I thought you were getting refills." Nate called out as he followed the noise.

He arrived at the guest bathroom to find Sully leaning over the sink, holding onto the edge of the porcelain. The distinct smell of vomit filled the small room.

"What's wrong?" Nate asked. "Were you—"

"Upchucking the contents of my stomach? Yeah," Sully replied, wiping his mouth with a towel. "Must've been bad kale," he said with an attempt at a grin.

Nate didn't buy the act. "You still get nauseous? From the chemo?"

Sully nodded. "Dr. Warren said it'll pass. It just takes time. And speaking of time, I think I'll order a rain check on that second drink. It's been a pretty long day."

Nate nodded, still worried.

Sully straightened himself with the help of the sink. He placed a hand on Nate's shoulder before making his way down the hallway.

"See you in the morning, kid."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Nate peered into the pan at the simmering slices of bacon that were crisping up before his eyes. He turned the heat off on the eggs, and divided the contents of both pans into two plates. Sully made his way down the stairs, his complexion looking considerably better.

"Perfect timing," said Nate, as he poured two cups of coffee and set them on the kitchen island.

"Morning," said Sully. He accepted the coffee and looked down at his plate. "Looks good, kid."

Nate retrieved utensils from the nearest drawer and set them in front of Sully. He waited patiently.

"You're gonna watch me eat?" Sully asked.

"If I have to, to make sure you do eat," Nate replied.

Sully sipped his coffee as he shifted his gaze between Nate and the plate of food in front of him. Seeing there was no recourse, he took a small bite of the eggs.

Nate stood with his hands propped against the granite countertop.

Sully finally chewed and swallowed. "Great to know I've come home to the food Nazi," he said.

The doorbell rang before Nate could defend himself.

"I'll get it," he said. "Keep eating."

He opened the door to find Danny standing nervously on the welcome mat.

"Is Sully home?" the boy asked, looking back at his own house across the street.

"Yeah, but he's—"

Sully appeared behind him in the doorway. "What's going on, Danny?"

"You said you needed the garage reorganized. I could do it today, if you wanted," Danny said, trying to hide his desperation.

"Don't you have school today?"

"It's Saturday," he replied.

Sully followed his gaze back across the street. "You're dad's home?" he asked.

Danny nodded, lowering his head.

"I've got a better idea. Let's go fishing."

The boy looked up quickly, excited at the offer.

"Sully, I don't know if that's a good idea," said Nate.

"Sure it's a good idea," said Sully. "C'mon, let's go get the boat ready."

Nate watched as the pair headed towards the back of the house before following their trail.

. . .

Nate stood in the doorway of the wheelhouse with the wind at his back and a panoramic view of the water. He breathed deeply, tasting the salt in the air, and smiled at nothing in particular. It was good to be on the boat again. He didn't realize how long it had been since he held a fishing rod in his hands.

Sully stood at the wheel while Danny was up front at the bow, staring into the water with his blond hair standing almost upright in the wind.

"You're hovering," said Sully as he maneuvered the boat in between two slower vessels.

"What? I'm not hovering."

Sully turned and gave him a look.

"Okay, maybe a little," he conceded.

"I'm fine," said Sully. "Something with dinner didn't sit well last night. I'll be fine."

Nate remained silent.

"Fine," Sully said again. "If you're going to be in here, at least make yourself useful."

He handed the wheel to Nate and went outside to join Danny. The two began baiting the fishhooks.

They arrived at the fishing spot, a calm area protected by a small cove, and Nate shut off the engine.

Danny handed him a pole that he let sit idly in its holder. Nate leaned back against the leather fishing chair, and closed his eyes as Sully began explaining the differences between grey snapper, red snapper, and yellowtail snapper. The sun warmed his skin as the gentle waves that lapped against the boat intertwined with Sully's voice and lulled him to sleep.

. . .

"Nate!"

He snapped awake and caught the hand that grabbed onto his arm. Danny's worried expression pressed into his vision.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Sully," said Danny. "Come quick."

Nate followed him to the back of the boat. Sully lay motionless on the deck.

"What happened?" Nate demanded as he rushed over to the older man.

"I don't know," Danny replied, almost panicked. We were sitting and he stood up and said he wasn't feeling well, and he just…fell.

Nate placed his fingers on Sully's carotid artery. His skin was pale, clammy, and overheated. His pulse was too fast.

"Get me a towel and a bottle of water from the cooler," he said to Danny as he hoisted Sully up by the shoulders and positioned him in the shade.

Danny ran into the wheelhouse and appeared with the items seconds later.

Nate tore open the cap and poured the cool water onto the towel. He wiped the towel around Sully's forehead, unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and draped it around his neck.

"Is he going to be okay?" Danny asked.

"He's gonna be fine," said Nate, unsure of his own answer. "Get me something we can use as a fan, will you? A piece of cardboard would work."

Nate adjusted the towel around Sully's neck as Danny raced off again. "Sully? Can you hear me?" he asked.

Danny returned with a piece of a hastily-torn cereal box. Nate poured more water onto his hands and covered Sully's arms and hands as Danny began fanning to speed up the cooling effects of the evaporating water.

Sully's eyes twitched, then opened slowly.

"Nate?" he said with a scratchy voice. "What happened?"

"You have heat exhaustion, and you passed out." Nate dragged his hand down his face and sighed. "I swear, Sully, you're aging me by the hour. I think my grey hairs have tripled in the last three days. Now I know how Len feels."

Sully attempted a grin. "Payback for all those times you disappeared and left me worrying."

"Drink this," Nate commanded, holding out the water bottle in his hand. "And another bottle before we dock."

Sully accepted the water. "Aye aye, captain."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The cool air from the fridge circled around his face as he stared at the shelves, momentarily hypnotized by the selection in front of him. Forgetting what he was looking for in the first place, he closed the door and sat down at the kitchen table.

The boat was docked. Danny had gone home, and Sully was upstairs at his insistence, getting some rest. So why did something still feel off?

He poured himself the remaining coffee left from the morning, took a sip, and ran through the events of the day in his head.

Nate sat up suddenly. He was the first one to open the porch door when they returned, but it was unlocked. A quick check of the door revealed no signs of forced entry. Frowning deeply, he forced himself to replay the morning's events again. He was almost certain he had locked up before they left.

Owing the mistake to the fatigue and stress of the last two days, he downed the rest of the coffee and willed himself to be more alert. He transported the still twitching fish from the cooler into the sink and started preparations for dinner.

. . .

Sully stepped into the kitchen just as Nate finished dividing the poached fish between two plates.

"Smells good," he said. "I could get used to a live-in cook, you know."

Nate smiled at his comment, but continued to work on the side dishes in silence. He placed the finishing touches on both plates and set one in front of Sully's seat.

"Careful, it's hot."

Sully, surprising both himself and Nate, dug into the food with enthusiasm.

"Nothing like fresh caught fish," he said between bites. "This is good, kid. Who taught you how to cook?"

Nate laughed at the question. "Don't worry, I tell all the ladies you're the master mind behind my culinary skills."

"As good as this is, am I right in assuming the gig is ending soon? When are you due to fly out?"

"Monday," said Nate with hesitation. "In two days."

Sully studied the conflicted expression on Nate's face. "Kid, you know I'm going to be okay, right? Don't let me hold you back on a job you've been working on for so long."

Nate shook his head. "It's not you Sully, it's me."

It was Sully's turn to laugh. "This is starting to sound like a bad breakup. What's going on?"

Nate leaned back into his chair. "I don't know. Lately, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. There's no excitement, no adrenaline rush anymore when I find what I'm looking for. It's like…a regular nine to five. Not like it used to be when we were doing this stuff together." Nate took a sip of his beer and shook his head. "Maybe I'm having some sort of a midlife crisis."

"I miss it too, kid," said Sully. "Sometimes it's great being out of the business and sometimes it's boring as hell. But at your age, I was right where you were, going from one job to the next without as much interest as I had before. It stopped being fun."  
"So what'd you do? How did you pull yourself out of it?"

"I brought a fifteen year old kid home from Colombia; had no idea what I was doing."

"You think I could find someone as great as I was back in the day?" Nate said with a smirk. "C'mon Sully, I highly doubt it. I was the model protégé."

"Ha," said Sully. "You have a funny way of blocking out major periods of time from your memory."

Nate folded his arms. "Like what?"

"Like what?" Sully asked. "Oh, let me see…so many things. How about the time you pick pocketed that cop in Peru and spent three weeks in prison? Or when you blew up the train tracks while we were still _on_ the train in Cuba? Or stealing those two monkeys from the wildlife preserve in Costa Rica?"

"I _borrowed_ those monkeys," Nate corrected with indignation. "Anyway, I like to call those learning points. Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"Sure," said Sully, "and give me countless stress-induced ulcers along the way."

"What can I say," said Nate with an exaggerated shrug. "I was kind of a troubled kid."

"That you were," said Sully. "Speaking of troubled kids…"

"Danny?" Nate asked.

Sully nodded, his mood turning serious.

"What's the full story there? I've been getting bits and pieces."

"His mom left four months ago. She had a huge fight with the dad in the middle of the night. Woke up almost the whole street when they took it outside. The kid was in the middle of it, almost got hit by a beer bottle the dad was swinging around. The man's a drunk. That's probably what drove the mom away. She wanted to take the kid, but he wouldn't let her."

"Sounds like a real standup guy, the dad," said Nate.

Sully nodded. He leaned back into his chair with a sigh. "I don't know, Nate. I guess it just reminds me too much of my own childhood. My father was a miserable drunk that made everyone around him miserable, too."

Nate took another sip of his beer. "It looks like out of the three of us, I was the one with the best childhood. Who would've thought?"

"Right," said Sully. "Looking for treasure in dangerous areas of the world, running from bad guys and bullets. Sometimes I wonder if I should've quit this business after finding you, if you could've had a better chance at having a normal life."

"Hey, who needs normal when you get to blow things up on a regular basis?"

Sully looked at Nate. "My point exactly."

Nate set his beer down. "Sully, I was headed into this business one way or another. Francis Drake's lost treasure was all I could think about back then. If you hadn't saved me from Marlowe's men on that rooftop and taught me pretty much everything I know, I'd be long dead by now. I know that as a fact."

Sully smiled. "Kid, just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to make up nice things. You're buttering me up like a Sunday roast here."

Nate met Sully's eyes in a moment of seriousness. "Sully, I mean it. You've saved my life countless times. And I don't mean in just the literal sense."

Sully nodded his gratitude. "Thanks, kid. I guess it's good to be buttered up once in a while."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Nate adjusted himself so he lay flat on the wooden planks of the boat deck. He placed his hands behind his head and looked upwards. A blanket of stars met his gaze, as the memory of his first nautical navigational lesson came to mind. _This is serious stuff, kid. If you learn to navigate by the stars, wherever you are in the world, you'll never be lost._

"I thought I'd find you out here," the same voice said from the edge of the dock, startling him.

"Sully. I thought you went to bed."

"Couldn't sleep," Sully replied. "And I'm glad I couldn't. The stars are really clear tonight."

Nate sat upright to make room for the older man, who lowered himself onto the deck.

"Do you remember when we used to sit on the roof of the old house and look at the stars?" Nate asked.

Sully nodded, smiling at a memory of his own. "You remember the time we fell asleep up there, and you woke up the next morning and almost fell two stories off the roof?"

"That was one of your better saves," Nate agreed, "for being mostly asleep."

Sully rubbed at an imaginary sore spot on his back. "As I recall, I pulled a muscle pulling you back up, and it hasn't been the same since."

"It's funny," Nate began. "Well, not funny, but…lucky I guess, how many close calls we've had."

"And how many not-so-close calls. We've both got the bullet holes to prove it."

Nate shifted in his seat. "Sully?"

"Hmm?" Sully answered, his gaze still on the stars.

"I want to stay for a while, if it's okay with you."

Sully turned towards him. "Kid, you know you always have a bed in my house. You never have to ask. But what about this job you've been working on for the better half of a year?"

"I know about three guys off the top of my head that would love to take it over. The client won't care; he's just focused on the end result."

"Nate, in all the years I've know you, it's not like you to give up on something you've been working so hard on. Is this about me? My check up next week?"

"It's a serious thing," said Nate. "You can't blame me for worrying."

"I'm not blaming you," said Sully. "I'm just shocked you think there's a chance I haven't beat this lung cancer. Where's the optimistic 'I can climb this fifteen story building in five minutes' kid when I need him?"

"He's having an asthma attack in the alley."

Sully laughed. "It's gonna be okay. Come on, let's go back inside."

Nate stood and dusted himself off. "I'm going to take the garbage out for tomorrow. I'll be right in."

. . .

The wheels of the garbage can rattled noisily against the brick driveway that was illuminated underneath the orange-hued streetlamp. Nate disposed the plastic bin at the curb, but paused before turning back. He shifted his gaze to the house across the street, listening in the stillness.

The same noise that he thought he imagined repeated itself, coming from the far corner of the house. It sounded like a piece of glass breaking against the siding, followed by the loud but muffled voice of a man.

Nate stepped into the street, hesitating in a moment of indecision. Another explosion of glass spurred his feet and he quickly jogged towards Danny's house.

Danny was the first person he saw, trying to hide behind one of the wooden support beams of the second-story porch. The remnants of multiple beer bottles were splattered all around him, with broken glass littering the square of concrete he stood on.

The man that Nate presumed to be Danny's father was drinking out of a bottle and mumbling something to himself. He downed the beer in one swift motion and threw it against the back of the house.

Danny winced, but was well out of the blast radius.

"Dad," he said in a pleading voice. "Let's go back inside."

The dad, somewhere decisively past drunk, tried to focus his eyes on his son before opening another bottle.

"Danny," Nate whispered from his spot behind some overgrown hedges.

The boy turned, alarmed to see him.

"What are you doing here?" Danny said in almost a panic. "You have to get out of here."

"I'm—"

Nate suddenly felt himself pulled backward with strong hands and thrown onto the ground.

"Who the fuck are you?" Danny's father demanded. "And what the fuck are you doing on my property?"

Nate held his hands up. "I don't want any trouble. It looks like you've had a little too much to drink. I'm happy to take Danny for the night. I live just across the street."

"You live with that fucking old guy that tried to kidnap my kid?" The dad demanded, angrier than before.

Nate cleared his throat. It was obviously the wrong thing to say. "Look, buddy—"

"Don't fucking buddy me," the man spat out. "Get the fuck off my property."

Nate stood his ground. "Let me take Danny, and we'll get out of your hair. But I'm not leaving without him."

His comment only enraged the other man further, who focused on Nate with a dangerous intensity.

Danny's father reached behind his back and drew a handgun.

"You're not getting anywhere near my son," he said coldly, aiming the gun at Nate's chest.

It was a Beretta 92, unmistakably the same one that Sully kept in one of the back kitchen cabinets for emergencies. Nate remembered the unlocked porch door from yesterday and clenched his jaws in anger. He should've checked the cabinet to make sure the gun was still there. Now it was in a lunatic's hands.

"You know what?" Nate said in a conversational tone, with his hands still in the air, "you're right, it's my bad." He inched a little closer to Danny's father. "I shouldn't have barged in on you like this."

The other man stumbled backwards as he continued forward. "We really got started on the wrong foot here."

Danny's father stood in puzzlement.

"What do you say we clear this up?" Nate extended his hand. "Nathan Drake."

The other man considered his outstretched hand. After a few seconds, he lowered the gun a fraction of an inch.

It was enough for Nate to make his move. He grabbed the pistol with his outstretched hand, pivoted in a half-circle, and pinned the other man's arm against his back.

"Ow," Danny's father cried out in pain. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Nate pressed the barrel of the pistol against the other man's back, facing away from Danny.

"You ever sneak into Sully's house again," he said in a tone muted enough so Danny wouldn't hear, "or take anything that doesn't belong to you, and I'll put every bullet in this magazine inside of you. Understand?"

The other man nodded, slowly.

"I'm taking Danny with me and you're going to sober yourself up before presenting yourself in front of him."

His prisoner tried to wrench himself free, but to no avail.

"Take him," Danny's father said loudly. "He's the reason his mom ran away in the first place."

Nate looked at Danny, whose expression broke as he heard the words. He jammed the barrel of the gun against the father's spine.

"You don't deserve a kid like him," he said, brimming with anger. "There's nothing stopping me from putting a bullet inside you right now."

"Nate."

Sully's hands were around him, pulling him back. "Let him go."

Nate resisted, keeping his iron grip on the drunkard.

"Nate, come on. Let him go. Danny's watching."

The boy had shrunk himself behind the wooden pillar again.

"Gimme the gun," Sully demanded.

Slowly, he loosened the grip on Danny's father and pushed him onto the ground.

"Don't get up," Nate warned through gritted teeth.

Sully took the gun from him and quickly tucked it behind his own shirt. He surveyed the scene in front of him.

"Come with us, kid," he said, stepping toward Danny through the broken glass. "You're sleeping at my house tonight."

Reluctantly, Danny peeled himself away from the pillar. He looked back at his dad.

"What about—"

"He'll be fine," said Sully. "He needs to sleep it off."

Danny's father stared at them with vengeance in his eyes.

"Come after him and you'll be sorry," Sully warned, before ushering both Danny and Nate away from the drunkard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sully, Nate and Danny hurried inside the house. Sully paused for a moment to catch his breath, waving away Nate's inquiry before the other man had a chance to voice it.

"I'm okay," he said. "Just give me a second."

He carefully pulled back a fraction of the nearest window curtain to check the street.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, looking between Nate and Danny.

Danny shuffled his feet and suddenly seemed interested in something on the floor.

"I heard a noise coming from across the street, and went to check it out," said Nate. "I pretty much found them the way you did."

"Danny, are you okay?" Sully asked.

The younger boy looked up, but remained silent.

Sully kneeled down to Danny's level. "What's going on with your arm, buddy? Why are you holding it behind your back?"

After several seconds of hesitation, Danny reluctantly moved his arm from behind his back. An ugly blue and purple bruise had started to form around his wrist.

"Did your dad do this?" Sully asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Danny gave a small nod. "He didn't mean to," he said quietly.

Sully looked up at Nate. "Why don't you take Danny into the living room and sit down for a minute. There's something underneath the sofa pillow if you need it. I'm going to call Leonard to see if we can sort things out."

Nate began to protest, but remembered the small revolver that Sully always kept in between the sofa cushions.

"Sully, you don't think—"

"Better to be prepared than not," said Sully. "Keep an eye on the back porch while you're at it."

Nate led Danny into the living room and they both took a seat on the sofa, taking a moment to digest what had just happened. Danny started to shiver next to him.

"Here, put this on." Nate grabbed the throw on the back of the sofa.

Danny took the blanket and edged closer to Nate.

"Do you think my dad's going to come here?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," said Nate. "He won't be able to get in, anyway."

Danny considered his words. "Is Sully going to protect us?"

Nate looked down him and placed a reassuring hand on his back. "Sully's been protecting me practically my whole life, and I've gotten into a lot more trouble than this. I wouldn't be worried if I were you."

Danny leaned back into his seat, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Okay, I'll try not to."

. . .

A knock on the front door jolted Danny out of an uneasy sleep. Nate motioned for the both of them to rise from the sofa. They walked quietly to the front door, and saw Sully open it to let Leonard in.

The lawyer looked at the group in front of him, choosing, for the sake of his blood pressure, to ignore the sight of Danny in Sully's house. "It's the middle of the night. What's so urgent?"

Sully quickly updated Leonard on the situation. The lawyer's eyebrows furrowed deeper with each passing detail.

He studied Danny for a moment after Sully finished.

"Is this all true?" he asked.

Danny wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. He looked up and nodded.

"So what do we do?" Nate asked. "Should we call the police? This guy's clearly a danger to himself and to Danny."

Leonard stood for a few moments in silence as he considered the options. "As your lawyer, that's the most logical thing to do. It's going to look bad if the dad calls the police and say the kid's been taken against his will. If we call, they'll pick him up and put him in a temporary foster home."

Danny looked up at Nate.

"What other options do we have?" asked Nate.

Leonard checked his watch. "It's not worth waking up the judge at this hour. If you're willing to bet the dad is nice and drunk and won't be awake for a few hours, I can make some calls and see what I can do in the morning. He would stay here tonight with you guys."

Sully and Nate exchanged a silent agreement. Sully said goodbye to Leonard and went with Danny to show him his room for the night.

Leonard hesitated at the door, looking back at Nate.

"How's he doing?" he asked.

"Sully?" Nate asked. "He's…okay."

Leonard gave him a look. "I drove him to his last couple of chemo appointments. He could barely stand afterwards."

"I wish he would've called me," Nate said with a mixture of frustration and regret. "I would've come back a lot sooner. You're right about one thing. He can be stubborn as hell."

"Are you staying a while?" Leonard asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on him, right?"

Leonard nodded. "But then again, I thought you being here would help the situation with this kid. Now you've taken up his side. I don't know why I'm surprised." He shook his head and prepared to leave. "I'll see you guys in the morning."

. . .

Morning came and went, without a call or any sign of Leonard. Sully hung up the phone for the fifth time, shaking his head.

"No luck," he said to Nate and Danny, who hovered close to the front door.

Another hour passed with everyone pretending to keep busy until a loud knock brought them all to the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" were the first words out of Sully's mouth.

Leonard, dressed in a creased shirt with rolled sleeves, returned Sully's look of annoyance. "Busting my ass off for you guys, that's where."

Nate stopped Sully before he could say anything further. "So what's the news?"

"I pulled some strings. A lot of strings, actually, and called in a few favors. To sum things up, the kid's going to be placed in a foster home until the police can locate his mother. The social worker's going to be here in about an hour."

Sully began to object.

"There's just no way around that," Leonard continued. "There's no way the judge would allow any semblance of the kid living here with you, especially with your history together and your history in general." He looked at Sully to get his point across. "You do not want social services looking into your past, trust me on this one."

"Who am I going to be living with?" Danny asked.

All three men turned to him.

"Well that's partly why this thing took so long. I vetted three foster homes before picking the one that sounded the most promising. They're a married couple with no kids. They've fostered two older kids before for a long period of time each, with great results. Both kids are now in college and doing great. And, they live very close to here, about two miles away."

"Now here's the cherry on top," Leonard continued, looking proud of himself. "I finagled a deal for you—" he turned to Nate "to have visitation rights. One hour a week to start, supervised, but with the potential of bumping it up to four a week, unsupervised. I spoke to the foster parents, explained the situation, and they're okay with it."

Nate stared at him for a second.

"Why me?"

"I tried, but with Sully's recent stint, it wasn't going to work with him."

"You'll come visit me, won't you?" Danny asked. "I probably won't be there for long. Just until they can find my mom."

Nate looked between Leonard and Sully, then down at Danny. "Sure I'll come visit. You can count on it."


	10. Chapter 10

**mgowriter's note** : I've been more aware and appreciative of the gift of time lately, so thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story and especially to those that commented. Oh, and this chapter proves that I don't have anything against female characters :P

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

"You're fidgeting. Stop fidgeting."

Nate turned to his right, where Sully sat calmly in one of the chairs next to a desk that dominated the small but professionally decorated office. The nameplate facing them read, "Dr. Sam Warren."

"I'm not fidgeting," he replied.

Sully looked in his direction.

"Okay, so maybe I am. How can you be so calm?"

The door to the office opened. A smartly dressed woman in her mid-fifties entered with her attention focused on the chart in her hands.

"Victor," she said before looking up and stopping in surprise at the sight of Nate.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming with a friend today."

"Nathan Drake," Nate stood and offered his hand, pausing at the sight of her blouse that was unbuttoned slightly too low.

"Dr. Samantha Warren," the woman's cheeks blushed as she shook his hand.

"You know what?" she said quickly, "I think I grabbed the wrong chart. I'll be right back."

Nate turned to Sully after watching her exit the room. The older man had a grin on his face.

"You're sleeping with your oncologist?"

Sully shrugged. "She was lonely. It's a hard job telling people they have cancer all day."

Nate shook his head in disbelief. "Have you ever heard of professional objectivity?"

"Believe it or not," said Sully, "she initiated everything. I was just here for treatment."

"Uh huh," said Nate. "I'm sure you did nothing to encourage her."

Sully feigned innocence. "I guess women just can't handle the Sullivan charm."

Nate rolled his eyes as the door to the office opened again, and the doctor entered with a buttoned blouse and lab coat. The chart in her hand was the same one she was holding earlier.

"Gentlemen," she said with residual embarrassment still clinging to her cheeks, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Please, have a seat."

Nate and Sully resumed their previous positions as the doctor sat behind her desk. She turned her attention to Sully and smiled.

"I'm happy to deliver good news today. The latest scan did not reveal any signs of the original mass that was cancerous, nor did it reveal any new spots. As of right now, there is no need for additional treatment."

A moment of silence passed, before Nate let out the breath he'd been holding. He allowed his hands to unclench from the seat rests.

"We'll have to keep the port in for a year," Dr. Warren continued, "and have you back for regular scans, but I'm very optimistic about the future."

Sully leaned forward in his chair. "Doc, are you saying I'm cured?"

"I'm saying you're in remission," Dr. Warren answered. "And I'm also saying I want to see you back here often to make sure it remains that way. Understand?"

Sully and the oncologist exchanged grins.

"Congratulations, Victor. I'll give you two some time." She walked around the desk to give Sully a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the office.

Nate smiled widely at Sully, and grabbed the older man in a hug.

"See?" said Sully, returning the hug. "What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about."

"Goddammit Sully, you had me worried."

Nate pulled back after a few seconds, this time with a serious expression.

"With everything that happened with Danny and his dad…it just made me realize how fortunate I was. The thought of possibly losing you..."

Sully placed a hand on Nate's back. "I'm pretty sure old age and sentimentality is getting to the both of us, but what the hell. I love you, kid. You know that, right?"

Nate nodded. "I know. Don't ever scare me like this again."

"Believe me," said Sully, "I'll try not to."

2


End file.
